The most frequently asked question this week has been, “So, you ready for your race this weekend?” It is always paired with a smile and a jovial chit-chat cordiality that is also used when commenting on the weather. “I hope so, we’ll see,” I shrug casually, as though discussing the latest round of Dancing with the Stars.
Oh, yes, it’s nothing really: A second marathon in 4 weeks, a totally ignorant approach to training, freakish winter-weather conditions, and a course touted for being, “hilly, challenging, and scenic” (great, maybe I won’t notice it is hilly or challenging because I will be so engrossed in the natural beauty – eye roll). Truth is (despite my post last Sunday about having let go of the outcome – I meant it at the time, but…), I continue to move back and forth between moments of I-am-going-to-rock-this-thing and Oh-God-I-think-I-might-vomit.
As with any race, there is no way to know what will show up on race day. The temperature, weather, scene, topography…are all very much out of my control. Yet, if I let myself, I could worry about them endlessly. As I look back over this past chocolate-crazed feeding frenzy, also known as this week (all in the name of quality carbo-loading, of course), I realize that to some degree that is what I have been doing – worrying endlessly about things out of my control (i.e. Have I rested enough? Have I trained enough? OMG how will I keep my pace up on the hills? What if it is super cold and I can’t breathe? Damn, they cancelled the pace groups this year!…)
There is a non-rational part of me that feels my success this weekend is a matter of life and death. Talk about pressure! Thing is, nothing bad will happen if I run the race slower than an 8:23 pace, or stop half-way, for that matter. I will not be in danger, unsafe, or lose all things in life that are important to me. While a part of my brain is convinced that a time slower than 3:40:00 will induce an instant personal apocalyptic cataclysm, the calmer, quieter part of my brain knows this is not true. My goal for the next 60 hours is to turn up the volume on that calm, quiet part, and turn down the volume of the other.
While I do not have control over my external environment, I do have control over how I handle my internal environment. Quieting my self judgment and monkey mind is the last piece of my pre-race training program.
Que sera sera.
Run Mama Run: Coaxing Out My Inner Fast-Girl 
Comments on: "60 hours until Manchester City start, but who’s counting?" (1)
Hey Rebecca. We’ve had no power for going on five days now. We feel very very unfine, but ultimately, we are fine. You are going to be fine too, whatever happens. Wishing you Very Good Luck and an Excellent Race!!